Tag Archives: nomadism

When Love is a Yoga and Lovers are Yogis

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There was light at the end of the research tunnel

These last few days I’ve been researching and thinking about an idea for a blog post. But I’ve come to realise that I am grossly underqualified to write about the topic I had in mind. Let me put it another way: I am completely and utterly unqualified in any way whatsoever to go there. In fact, after all the research, I think I’m going to disqualify myself from ever going there in writing.

However, I’m a great believer in the idea that no quest for knowledge is ever a waste of time or effort; there is always something to be learned. During my research I came across a topic I believe I am qualified to discuss, as it forms an integral and vital part of my own personal spiritual practice.

Why I’ve decided to write this post, though, is because I made a discovery that lead to an insight that I know will lead to a great progress in that practice. It’s nothing new, not really, but it was one of those occasions we’ve all experienced of ‘I knew that, but now I really know it.’ For me, it was a realisation of something that till then had been a nice cosy theory and belief.

Bhakti Yoga is that practice. It is really a key foundation, a valuable component of my spiritual life.

Wikipedia opens its entry on Bhakti Yoga (see the link just above) with a description of the practice that mirrors what I think is the traditional understanding of Bhakti Yoga:

Bhakti Yoga (also called Bhakti Marga, literally the path of Bhakti) is a spiritual path or practice within Hinduism focused on loving devotion towards any personal deity.

In the same entry there is a description of the origins and meanings of the two words, Bhakti and Yoga:

The Sanskrit word Bhakti is derived from the root bhaj, which means “divide, share, partake, participate, to belong to”. The word also means ‘attachment, devotion to, fondness for, homage, faith or love, worship, piety to something as a spiritual, religious principle or means of salvation’.

The term Yoga literally means “union, yoke”, and in this context connotes a path or practice for ‘salvation, liberation’. yoga referred to here is the ‘joining together, union’ of one’s Atman (true self) with the concept of Supreme Brahman (true reality).

For some, dancing while chanting the names of their God, demonstrates their devotion and celebrates their union with each other and with God

In other words, those called to a religious or spiritual life, practise Bhakti Yoga whenever they pray or otherwise express devotion towards their personal conception of God, or the Divine. This particular definition seems to be saying that such a conception of the Divine, or God, is in the form of a personal deity who is a kind of representative of true reality, which the devotee is aspiring to join with.

Some Bhakta Yogis are full-time, full-on practitioners. People like contemplative nuns or monks, hermits who retire from the world into seclusion. Anyone basically whose entire life and activities are spent in devotion.

So, when I discovered all this, I became intrigued; I decided to go off on a tangent and explore the word Bhakti itself. Wikipedia has a separate entry for the word on its own:

Bhakti is a term common in Indian religions which means attachment, fondness for, devotion to, trust, homage, worship, piety, faith, or love. In Indian religions, it may refer to loving devotion for a personal God

…

is often a deeply emotional devotion based on a relationship between a devotee and the object of devotion.

…

In ancient texts the term simply means participation, devotion and love for any endeavor.

May refer to devotion to a personal god? While I thought this entry doesn’t contradict our first quote above, it does seem to broaden, and deepen, the meaning of Bhakti. Expand might be the better word.

In some traditions a simple life on the road is a way to commit full time to Bhakti or devotion.

It struck me that that object of devotion might be anything. Or even everything. You see? I told you it wasn’t a new idea. It’s just that it’s resonated deeply within me now. It appears that the object of Bhakti Yoga practice doesn’t necessarily have to be a ‘personal god’.

Many many people would say ‘I like animals’ or ‘I think we should save the world’. But, while that may imply a kind of love for or at least a fondness for, I think Bhakti is something more – actually several somethings more!

For example, some people have a particular attraction to and love for, the ocean, or it might be a river they view as, if not sacred in a religious sense, then as special to them in some deep, comforting, even therapeutic way. Others have similar relationships with and feelings for trees, or even a particular tree.

Animals as either individuals or as a species or group, can have the same appeal and call to other people. Then there are those who feel strongly in their hearts you could say, that Earth itself is a sacred object, or others have a knowing that the planet is a living entity and worthy of our devotion.

Bhakti begins with love and devotion, which is about caring for, affection towards, loyalty to, emotional engagement with the object of devotion. But even more than that, there is faith in that object of devotion; faith as in trust, confidence that the love is real, that the ‘relationship’ is sound and real.

Homage and worship too are key aspects of Bhakti. The deep inner feeling we have towards a thing, person, or other being, that is beyond what we normally call ‘love’. It’s about seeing and actually realizing ‘in our hearts’ our desire to be merged or united with that thing, person, or other being.

Actually, seeing that word other just now got me thinking. I had to go back and reread our definition of Yoga up there near the beginning. It says Yoga means ‘union, yoke’. It goes on to add: yoga refers to a ‘joining together, union’.

This passage seems to be suggesting that Yoga (in our case Bhakti Yoga) is both an already existing union, and a process of joining together to achieve union. One thing I would say here is that in my practice of Bhakti (and love as a general thing to strive for and be) it’s both.

Trees are special beings for many people from a whole variiety of cultures all over the world

But, in the end, it seems to me that the process or practice, the path of Bhakti, serves to awaken us, to assist us to acknowledge, recognise, and realise in that really knowing way, our pre-existent true nature.

That true essential nature can be said to be the reality of our oneness with all things, living and non-living. And their oneness with us too of course. In fact, by putting it that way, I’m saying there is only one, or oneness. What’s that expression? One without a second.

May you be a Bhakta Yogi. Or, perhaps you already are one?

Love and peace from Paul the Hermit

Life has manifested itself as the multitudinous forms that comprise the universe. It is the one Universal Life, Power or Shakti (the laws of the universe or natural laws) that controls, guides and actuates all movements and activities in all beings, creatures and things.

                — Swami Ramdas

A Story of Words and a Journey of Discovery

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Remember that old Bee Gees‘ song Words?  It’s about one person offering all they have to another. Well, the one doing the offering must have been a writer because, while the song’s a love story, it’s words that are the big thing on offer here:

It’s only words, and words are all I have
To take your heart away

Well, as this is a blog, words are the way it hopes to reach your heart. Actually, the posts also include photos and sometimes other art, but the main vehicle used here is words.

So, with that in mind I have a couple of words to offer you today. Well, one word and its opposite. Have a look at this sentence from Thomas Merton:

If Irish monks affirmed his Celtic spirit in their mastery of cataphatic contemplation of the wonders of divinity in nature, Buddhist monks evoked his Zen mind and drew him into the apophatic path of formless ’emptiness’…

A quote from the Introduction to When the trees say nothing: nature writings of Thomas Merton

As sentences go (though this is obviously only part of a sentence) this has to rank pretty close to the top for length and denseness.

Kataphatic. What a word! Of course I had to look it up; I’d never heard the word before (this post is a rewrite from notes written a while ago that I never got around to posting.), and even though the sentence seems to  suggest the meaning, I was still curious.

Looking at Wikipedia – where they spell it with a ‘C’ like Merton, as well as with a ‘K’- I learned that cataphatic is an adjective that describes an approach to theology that uses ‘positive terminology to describe or refer to the divine (God, Truth, Dharma, Spirit. You know what I mean: the divine).

Apophatic, as you probably figured out already, is when one uses ‘negative terminology to indicate what it is believed the divine is not’. A process of negation or we could say you get to what the divine is by a process of elimination.

Pretty simple concept really, but with a couple of big words to label it, and a lot of  words to define it. No, don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the meaning and origin of the words and all the rest. Mainly because I don’t know and I’m not especially interested anyway in all that technical stuff.

I simply resonated with the word, and the concept. Cataphatic made me think of Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in Mary Poppins. But let’s not go there: this is a serious blog after all. Except to say there’s more to that word than you might imagine.

Putting aside the aesthetic appeal of the word for a minute, let’s contemplate a while on cataphatic, and it’s opposite, apothatic.

To begin thinking about these two words, it’s necessary to acknowledge the existence of the divine. We can call it God, if we like. Or Dharma, Truth, Spirit, Love, Beauty.

As the quote suggests, a cataphatic approach, ideology, theology, or whatever we call it, ascribes names and forms to the divine, as well as describing where and in what the divine may reside.

Whereas apothatic, again as the quote suggests, does not ascribe names and forms to the divine. Instead it seeks to discover what or who god is or isn’t by a process of negation as described already. 

For a long time I labelled myself as a Humanist. I had decided that this physical body is all there is; the physical or material universe is all there is, and that there is no ‘god’ separate from us or who has special powers to affect our lives. No God at all in fact.

In the Grove of the Sentinals

But, all that while, I just knew that there was something else, something more than just the physical.  And over time, I came to the knowledge that there is indeed more than the simply phsical universe (including we humans).

I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and I came to the conclusion not that many years ago, that I had simply been afraid to name or define that something more. It would have meant admitting to myself that something more really did exist.

That is to say, I was scared of taking the cataphatic approach – and I’d never even heard the word.

Well brothers and sisters, I saw the light. The truth was revealed to me. And what is that truth? Well, to put it simply, I wasn’t scared anymore. Not of names and forms, and not of what I couldn’t see.

Now I could take both the Catophatic and the Apothatic approach: that the something else I had actually always known just was, really is, and can have a name and form, or not. The divine is not an omniscient being or any kind of being at all; As I’m very fond of saying, the divine (or truth, God, Dharma) simply is.  And it’s all there is.

Some of you might know that I am really quite fond of the Indian deity, Ganesha . Do I believe that a man with the head of an elephant actually exists or ever existed?. Of course not. Do I actually think that he resides in the lovely painted icon that sits by my bed? Well, obviously not.

But do I believe that there is a spark or aspect or attribute in all life, in you and me, in nature, in (scary word time) creation, that we can tap into to help us overcome obstacles? Or that we can access when we begin new ventures of whatever kind, or when we need strength to face challenges? Yes, I do. Very definitely.

And do I believe in a blue boy called Krishna who lived in India 5000 years ago and spent his time playing in the fields with the village cows and his friends, entertaining them with his flute? Again, of course not. Does he live in the other beautiful icon by my bed? The answer is obvious: no.

But do I chant the Hare Krishna mantra in an effort to come closer to the divine that is… well, that just is? Yes, again, very definitely.

Words. It’s all only words. Only words? Only??

In the beginning was the word, and the word was  with God and the word was God. (from the opening of the Gospel of John)

It’s all I have (for now).

Peace and Love from me to you

Flee, Be Silent, Pray Always Part 3

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Namaste and welcome

Well, here we are with the third and final part of our contemplations on Flee, Be silent, Pray Always, the answer discovered by our friend Arsenius who was looking for a way to be saved from the the things of the world.

In a very real sense, this third injunction might be seen as the most important of the three. Indeed, again in a very real sense, those first two seem to me to be prerequisites for the third. Certainly, many of us would like to flee to a place and state of silence in order to escape the world and its many and varied causes of our suffering. Such people are simply and completely over the noise, the chaos, war, greed, the complexity of relationships, and all the rest.

Then there are many many others who, rather than looking to escape the world, are wanting to ‘flee’ towards a place and state of silence in order to engage more fully with the world by contemplation, meditation, and most of all, prayer. Such people are working towards making their entire lives a prayer.

And then there are the third group which is made up of those who have some sense of running away from the world while at the same time they feel compelled to move towards a contemplative life that they sense will be the best way they can actually serve the world.

I think I can include myself in this last group. I’ve never coped well with masses of people, being in the workforce, or dealing with the horrors that the world seemed to be overwhelmed with.

At the same time, I’ve always wanted to (and have tried to) combat injustice, racism, violence and the rest. I guess you could sum it up by putting it this way: I was (still am) an oversensitive person who one day had had enough of trying to ‘fight the system’ when it was the system making and changing the rules of the game as it went along.

Better I thought, to turn inwards in order to reach or realise my oneness with all living things. I’ve always been predisposed to praying as well, so it was a natural evolution in many ways. My intention and commitment these last few years has been (and still is of course) to pray continuously and with all my being.

My prayer is for the release from suffering for all living beings and that’s my central focus for prayer. For me, it feels very much that I am a lot more use to others living what I think of as a prayerful contemplative life than being actively engaged with the world out there in the midst of it all so to speak.

Pray Always

Prayer for me is not so much about petitioning some all-powerful being who is seemingly on a whim able to grant or refuse my wishes. For me it is more an affirmation of the reality of my already existent oneness with the entirety of the universe. It’s a way of seeking to actually realise that this oneness is my very Self.

Prayer is about being present, not wishing blindly that things be different than they are. In praying I seek to affirm that the ‘universe is unfolding as it should’, as it says in a famous poem I’ve always loved. (Actually if you don’t know about Desiderata [Things Desired] then please do check it out; you’ll love it).

I think that in this sense, prayer is in fact an act of mindfulness, or rather an act which will help develop a mindfulness practice. It is a way to practise being fully focused and present to whatever is going on, whatever circumstances we find ourselves in.

And if we’re able to be present – even on a temporary or momentary basis – then we will be more calm, more at peace, and more able to achieve some clarity in our lives and with whatever is the intention with our prayer.

I know it might sound like a clumsy attempt at a clever play on words, but we’ve described mindfulness as the practice of being fully present. But we can put it another way. We can define that state of being fully present as being in presence.  Like what we might say to a friend who is daydreaming while we are trying to talk to them. We might say something like ‘so and so, your presence would be appreciated’.

In presence of what? I would say everything. When we are absolutely in the present moment (again even momentarily), when we are able to realise our oneness with all things. Essentially the universe is there – or is it here? – with you in that present moment. It’s a moment when we may indeed feel we are in the presence of all that is.

Some may call that presence God, or the Divine, or Universal Consciousness. Others may see it as being in the presence of their own true and authentic Self.

That leads quite nicely to the next aspect of prayer that I want us to look at. Praying to God. I’ve spent so long on mindfulness because I wanted to stress that I don’t think it’s necessary to have a personal name or form for God, or even a notion of an unmanifested, invisible ‘force’ called God, in order to pray.

On the other hand for me, and I know for a lot of people, there are names and forms of the universal consciousness that pervades and permeates the universe, that I personally resonate with and I can reach out to them whenever the feeling or inclination arises. It sounds a bit odd to say, but for me to think that all that is, is all that is, sort of sums it up.

And as a result of that, any prayer  I pray is addressed to my own Self which is simply part and parcel of all there is. In other words, it’s a personal choice for any one of us what form or name we choose to pray to. Or if we don’t pray to a name and form at all. All is one.

One thing I’ve mentioned I think a couple of times is the idea of making all our activities into a prayer, but other than the discussion on mindfulness and presence, I’ve not really addressed the how and why.

Why is pretty obvious. Because living and acting mindfully helps us in so many way such as being more peaceful, more relaxed, happier, and so on. The how, now I’m thinking about it is the purpose of this post. And it’s also true to say we’ve been talking about it since this series began.

That is to say, we flee from the aspects of our lives that don’t serve us and which can be changed. This might be a decision to spend 30 minutes every day sitting quietly and undisturbed. And as we’ve mentioned a few times already it could be going all out and moving to a desert cave somewhere.

In both those scenarios we give ourselves the opportunity to be silent and, hopefully also surrounded by silence. How to pray always? There’s an expression I love and try to live by: Follow your Dharma. Here Dharma means your own truth, being authentic to who you are, having the intention to do what’s right in all situations. And of course actually following through with that intention if at all possible. In this way you transform every action into prayer.

Living a life of prayer does seem on the face of it to not involve much use of spoken prayers, as in saying prayers with words. Well, I don’t intend to be humourous here, but a great deal of prayer does it fact involve talking to one’s Self. To the real self, that part of us that’s part of everything else. It can do us good to have these deep conversations.

Then of course there are the many many prayers that already exist to serve people from so many traditions, cultures, to suit all kinds of purposes and intentions.

Many of us will be familiar with a number of prayers learnt when we were children. If you’re anything like me, they still pop up by themselves from time to time.

Actually as I deepen my prayer practice, I’m discovering that I’m remembering all sorts of prayers from many and varied sources. I think as I dig deeper, more and more are coming up to the surface.

This prayer (by Thomas Merton I think) resonates deeply with me

If these ‘pre-prepared’ prayers say what you want to say and in a way that resonates with you, then you are free to choose those that feel right for you. I guess I mix and match the prayers I use; it’s always dependent on my feelings, thoughts, and intentions at the time.

Like  Arsenius, I try to be open and responsive to whatever the ‘answers’ are, even though my ego does sometimes when it doesn’t like the answer, try and control outcomes.

One point about such prayers: I find it tempting oftentimes to simply recite them at what I’ve heard described as lip level. By rote and without emotion, in other words. At those times I try to slow down or pause to reflect on what I’m doing and why to get back in touch with Self.

A major part of my prayer life is chanting mantra. I try to spend more time chanting as time passes. There are a number that I use depending on inclination and need.

I chant anywhere and sometimes a mantra will start chanting itself, surprising me by its arrival

(This photo isn’t me by the way)

Now, probably one of the most important aspects of my own prayer life: I know I’ve mentioned my intentions in praying at all, but one aspect I haven’t mentioned is praying as devotion.

Devotion as in worship, praise, as in gratitude for the beauty in my life, as an expression of love. Knowing with the mind that all is one is fine, but these kinds of prayers help us to cement our awareness of that oneness of all living beings. As I said earlier, I, like you or anyone else, may use particular names and forms to represent this oneness, but, well, it’s all one, so we are non-different from all those names and forms.

Lord Sri Krishna is among my favourite forms of Universal Consciousness  (also known as Brahman)

There are many representations of the Divine, but Krishna and this picture of Him are special to me.

Focusing your devotion on a particular form seems to help make it easier or more real. It’s tricky to pray to and with a thing that has no form and is invisible.

So, my friends I hope what I’ve said here is of some little interest to you and that you have found at least something you can use for your own life.

With peace, love, and with my prayers

Paul

The Best Job in the World

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Indeed, it is clear to all who dwell there that through them the world is kept in being

I jotted down this note I forget how long ago. Over the last few years I’ve read a lot about the early Christian hermits who lived in the deserts of Egypt, Syria, and other areas of that area we label the Middle East.

While I think it was one of these early hermits who uttered these words, it may instead have been a monk or hermit from the 9th or 10th Century, living in the forests of Russia or Eastern Europe. (I wish was a lot less careless with sources for things I note down).

In any case, it was spoken by a hermit or monk who, along with perhaps thousands of other men and women, fled the strict dogmatism of both government and religious institutions , as well as the corruption, materialism, noise, and all the other distractions of the cities and towns.They went to the deserts, the forests, and other remote places, in search of solitude, silence, and peace.

They longed to commune with the divine. They chose to bypass the mire of worldliness, and hoped to find a better way to serve the divine and the world. The writer or speaker of our quote is pointing our attention to all those who went to the deserts, the forests, and other sanctuaries, who in her or his words, believe they are actually keeping the world going, and its people too.

These nuns, monks, priests and hermits, knew that by communing with the divine without distractions, and living a simple life completely and absolutely centred on the divine, was the way to save the world.

‘So’, you might be saying with a slightly cynical tone in your voice: ‘These are people who have ‘escaped’ from the world and are ignoring governments and the law, rejecting social status of any kind, not associating with other people like other good citizens. They’ve gone to sit in a hut or cave or whatever and are doing nothing productive at all. They’re not buying stuff so they aren’t contributing the the economy. And you say they are the ones keeping the world spinning round? Hardly.’

There are hermits everywhere.

Yes, I think they are. Keeping the world spinning I mean. Just as mystics from all the world’s religious traditions, these women and men of the deserts – and the forests too – knew that the world they’d left behind wasn’t real. Well, yes, it’s real enough of course: I mean we only have to look around us, and feel the workings of our bodies. It’s real alright.

But, realer (I know, it’s not a real word) than this physical world we are in and are an integral part of, is what lies within us as well as everything else in the Universe:

Holy Wanderer
Detached from all Worldly Entanglements

The divine, God, the life force, Consciousness. So many names for the same thing. Many of us sense that at the core of ourselves there is ‘something else’; that there is some kind of intelligence for wont of a better word. This intelligence is what illumines life, as in life, the universe, and everything.

But, we don’t see this, or not so often anyway. The mire of worldliness (a phrase I mentioned earlier and which I like very much) seems to be specifically designed to keep us in the dark so to speak, about our true nature.

Think about the seemingly endless focus on materialism with its temptations and promises to make us happy; the conflict and competition among individuals and nations to acquire more power, possessions, land and anything else that ‘they’ve got and that we want’.

Mire is a good word: We’re trapped and sinking fast in a kind of quicksand.

And this mire keeps us from becoming aware, from realizing, that we are the Consciousness (the word I prefer but, as I said, names are just names) mentioned above. It keeps us ignorant of our true nature, and we go on and on struggling to keep afloat in the world.

The hermits of the past and the present, the nuns, monks and other contemplative people of all kinds, and, in many and various places, are all engaged in a quest to know – and yes, to realise – that they and everything else in the material and non-material universe is Consciousness.

I believe that, far from being unproductive, from ‘doing nothing’, It is the engagement by such people everywhere with this quest that does indeed keep the world in being.

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons Thank you

I would like to leave you with a couple of quotes if I may.
The first is from Abba Moses, one of the greatest of the early desert fathers who was born in Ethiopia and lived in Egypt in the 4th Century:

‘Our objective is puritas cordis,’ Abba Moses told Cassian and Germanus [fellow monks]. ‘A heart kept free of all disturbance. The more we cultivate such inner stability, the more we can offer our lives in service to the world.’

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons Thank you

The second quote I would like to share is from Saint Seraphim of Sarov, a 19th Century Russian monk who lived as a hermit deep in the woods:

‘Acquire a peaceful spirit, and thousands around you will be saved.’

Probably the best gig in the world I would say.

Peace and love

Silence, Solitude: Where can I find it?

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Remain in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything

This piece of advice from one of the early Christian desert hermits to a follower has been going round in my head for ages. And I mean a couple of years at least. I’d read it in several books at the time, and I’ve seen it in a few since.

Of course, most of the writers of those books interpreted this advice at face value, literally advising the student, hermit, monk, or other contemplative person to stay in their physical cell (hut, cave monastery cell, suburban bedroom, wherever is their permanent dwelling) and listen, meditate, study, and contemplate. The advice is, stay in that space in silence and seclusion. Quite possibly forever.

‘But it could be the cell of your Self,’ my partner hermit said to me one time. And yes, I thought, that’s exactly right. I liked the symbolism. The actual literal, physical space and its geographical location isn’t necessarily the important factor. What’s important is that you, the real you is actually fully present wherever you are, right here, right now.

Think about what it really means to be present – to be here now: It means that you can say, ‘This is the only space and the only moment that exists. Right here and right now.’

Living life is an ever-flowing movement or process, and at the same time (excuse the unintended pun) is always occuring in the present. And in that ongoing moment you – your Self -is always there.

Of course along for the ride is your little s self with its ego, chattering and never quiet mind reminding you of the distractions, stresses, anxieties, worries about things to do or not do, memories of the past, and fears for the future. It goes on and on.

But, still, that space within where you can meditate, pray, contemplate quietly, that’s your Self, your ‘cell’.

I’ve always liked and worn hoodies. I guess a lot of people do. For some it’s about fashion; others wear them for warmth in cold weather or to keep the sun off when it’s hot; some people even use them to hide.

Then there are others such as nuns, monks, priests and others too, for whom a hood is a part of the robe they wear as a member of their particular group.

In those cases, a hood is called a cowl and most often it’s a largish loose hood sewn onto the robe or habit. Just like a regular hoodie.

I read somewhere (I forget where) that some groups nickname these cowls ‘cells’. In other words, the wearer carries their cell with them wherever they go.

Of course they don’t always actually wear the hood on their heads, but whenever they wish or need to retreat to their cells, all they have to do is simply pull their hood up and over their head and all of a sudden they are in their own private and solitary world; they are in their cell.

As I said earlier, I like the symbolism. But more than that: I find wearing a hood on my head or simply in standby mode, comforting.

I’m not overly good with crowds, or in close proximity to other people on a bus or train or whatever. I like knowing that just by pulling my hood on, I’m able to create my own space apart from my surroundings. In that space I can feel safe and kind of apart.

Even at home I wear a hood when I’m meditating or praying. It’s just one more opportunity to retreat into my cell, into Self

Peace from the Hermit to you

‘Sometime Soon’: When is it?

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There used to be a thing – maybe it’s still a thing – that would happen sometimes. You’d be talking to someone and suddenly they’d burst out:

‘Hey that rhymes! You’re a poet and don’t know it!’

This exclamation, this sudden and surprising interruption, was always prompted by some sort of accidental rhyming happening in something you’d said.

Or, sometimes, it even happened when you had written something and had through no fault or thought on your part, created a rhyme, even a little impromptu and accidental poem.

Well, that’s what happened to be. It was a while ago now and I was writing in my journal. It must have been ages ago because I don’t keep a journal anymore.

In any case, with nobody reading over my shoulder, it was left to me to express surprise at a sudden outburst of poetics on the page. And along with the surprise, I was able to make a quick note of what I’d written:

Anyway, this post isn’t about this little demonstration of spontaneous poetic genius; it’s actually about the ‘sometime soon’ tagging along on the end.

I have no idea where or what the walk to take, the pilgrimage to make, was – or is. Which suggests a rather obvious conclusion: ‘sometime soon’ never came. The walk was not taken; the pilgrimage was not made.

Now, I’m thinking to myself, if the walk under discussion was so appealing – as well as so significant that it transformed into a pilgrimage – then how come ‘sometime soon’ wasn’t right now, or rather right then. If you follow me.

Of course there’s no telling the reasons for the sometime soon. Maybe plans would have been required; travel to arrange; equipment to gather; fitness to acquire. Who knows?

Clearly I was inspired to at least put down in writing that I thought this walk, this pilgrimage, was (or would be) a good thing to do.

Meaning, in that moment, in the present that is (or was) of that moment, that walk/pilgrimage was a thing I wanted to undertake.

Now, while I might have longed to take that walk, to make that pilgrimage, in the present of that moment of writing, and even though planning may have been required, thereby putting off the actuality of the taking and making till some future time, I at the very least could have taken some action – again in the present of that moment – to get the ball rolling so to speak.

So, what’s the lesson here?

Well it’s simple really, very simple. Maybe simpler to say than to actually put into practice, but I think my lesson here is just this. Tell myself the truth as often and as much as I possibly can. In other words:

Be honest with myself

Let’s look at the options

If I’d really wanted to take this walk, to make this pilgrimage, no matter how remote, how complicated the logistics or planning, why didn’t I take action in that present? Or at least in some present before I actually forgot completely what the walk/pilgrimage was.

And why add ‘sometime soon’ if I didn’t actually desire or intend for this thing to happen? Well, possibly to put of any decision about doing or not doing. Or perhaps it was a way of saying (in completely other words), ‘Well, it sounds very nice, but I doubt I will ever end up doing it.’

So, honesty, and clear thinking about what I want and what I don’t want. That way I won’t be so attached, so keen on clinging to outcomes that I can’t see clearly, can’t easily know what I am to do or not do. Presence. Being present is what this is really about isn’t it?

To be completely present, to be fully here and now, requires me (all of us I suppose) let go of the maybes, and the ifs and buts as well as the endless ruminations about do this or don’t do that.

If I want to take a walk, or make a pilgrimage, then I say to me: just get on with it! If I don’t, then just say so, and move on.

Last little comment: I would really love for the present to remind me of what this walk/pilgrimage was. I’m a bit curious I guess(yes I know, curiosity is a present moment deflater) Maybe it’ll come back to me now I’ve written this post.

Peace

A Journey to the Centre of the World (sort of)

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Namaste and greetings

Yesterday I came across a couple of stories – true ones – that I wrote years ago. They are what we might loosely call ‘travellers’ tales. I thought it might be nice to share them here. So here’s the first one. Enjoy

Not the Manu temple I write about, but another one close by

I’d walked up to Old Manali, and I’d kept walking through the town. Then higher still, past the temple to Manu, and the scattering of traditional houses and small fields clustered around the temple.

Three near-naked and stoned saddhus invited me into their cave – more a kind of overhanging rock shelf poking out from the foundations of the temple itself.

Naturally I declined. Politely. I wasn’t, never had been, and never shall be a stoner. Besides, here I was deep in the Himalayas walking through ancient villages and past temples to ancient gods. Seems to me that that’s enough to bring on a high all its own and like no other.

Then, a little higher up the trail. I rounded a corner to be greeted by a kind of open forest glade; a grassed and flowered field protected by a semi circle of forest sentinels, their crowns maybe thirty metres above my head.

And there, in the middle of this magic field, a large flat rocky area, like a series of ‘shelves’ layered one on the other. This maybe twenty square metre tiered platform was probably the remnants of an ancient hill (or mountain?) that got in the way of a more recent but clearly relentless glacier.

Whatever the history, here was an arena with views no theatre or movie could ever hope to reproduce. This natural amphitheatre faced several layers of peaks across the valley. But, before those peaks, and directly in front of me, just down the slope, stood the temple, then more trees, reaching down into the valley. Here the river flowed, surrounded by farmers’ fields and the brown dots of houses.

Then the forests begin again, thick at the bottom in the valley, but becoming more scattered on the higher ground. Then those many layers of higher and higher hills, mountains really, rolling off into the distance to, where on the horizon and behind it all, a row of the really high peaks covered in their permanent snows.

‘This is a special place, a sacred place,’ I heard myself sigh out loud. Sitting cross-legged now, I let my eyes wander over the scene taking in the blue sky, the white peaks, the multiple greens of the forests, the sliver ribbon of the river, and the rest.

At such times and in such places, one’s eyes tend to close of their own accord. And so it was for me then and there. I let myself drift. Thoughts came and went, to be replaced by more thoughts that came and went.

Then, my eyes opened. Again of their own accord. After a few seconds of that cliched ‘where am I?’ feeling one has when startled out of one state and into another, I made out the figure of a person standing facing me a few metres from where I sat.

‘I’m sorry,’ I heard her voice call to me. ‘You just looked so peaceful sitting there meditating, I just had to stop and watch you.’

She told me she’s been watching me for about fifteen minutes, which gave me a start: It’d felt l Ike I’d only just sat down and closed my eyes.

‘They say the light of the world is held about twelve kilometres up this trail. That means it’s the centre of the world.’

I had to stand to try to take in a revelation of this magnitude.

‘And apparently,’ she went on, ‘they’re going to move it soon and nobody knows where.’

Was she an angel? Was I dreaming? They, whoever they were, are about to shift the centre of the world? Even in India one doesn’t hear this kind of news everyday. Actually, I doubt you’d ever hear it on any day.

Then she was gone, headed up the trail. I didn’t follow. I remember thinking: twelve kilometres was too far for me especially as I already had a long walk downhill to my hotel back down in the new town.

Yes, mundane, practical musings, a typical response to news of such a wild and far-out nature. So, not exactly in shock, yet not quite myself, I turned back. Down. Through the village, past the temple with three crashed out saddhus out front, back into the town.

There are cafes there. They sell Chai there. I needed one.

Actually, given the momentous news I was going to have to digest, I might even have a couple extras.

This is a true story; it actually happened more or less the way it’s described here.

Of course, there is no ‘light of the world’ stored in some secret spot, somewhere on Earth.

Well, I suppose if there is a light of the world, then it’s likely to be the world itself, I mean Earth, all the beings who live on this planet. Life itself I guess you could say. Life is light; Life is love.

Peace

Remnants of Sea Cliffs

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Here there are remnants
of sea cliffs.
Cliffs that have not towered
since ancient times.

For You Alone: A Prayer

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I’m not completely sure where I found this prayer. But I have a feeling it is by Thomas Merton, one of my most favourite and significant teachers and guides.

Thank you with Love

Hommage aux Ailés

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Creatures of the Air,
the Winged ones.
Same like you and me:
Bound to material nature.